GIFT  OF 


A  Captive  Maiden 
in  Damascus 


BY 

John  Rea 


A  Drama  in  Five  Acts 


Published  by 
WHITAKER  &  RAY-WIGGIN  CO, 


Price  25  Cents 


A 

Captive  Maiden  in 
Damascus 

A  Drama  in  Five  Acts 


BY 
JOHN  REA 

Author   of  The  Pet  Dove." 


Copyright  1915 
WH1TAKER  &   RAY-WIGGIN    CO. 


SAN   FRANCISCO 

WHITAKER   &    RAY-WIGGIN    CO. 
1915 


A  Captive  Maiden  in  Damascus." 


Synopsis 

Naaman,  leader  of  the  armies  of  Syria,  a  man  of  noble 
character,  has  concealed  from  every  one  except  Eliezer, 
his  steward,  the  fact  that  he  has  been  stricken  with 
"white  leprosy",  a  malignant  and  incurable  disease. 

On  his  return  from  a  campaign,  during  which  the  spot 
on  his  arm  has  spread  alarmingly,  his  wife  and  daughters 
are  eagerly  awaiting  his  home  coming;  but  he  delays 
going  to  his  house  while  despairingly  seeking  relief  at  the 
many  shrines  of  Rimmon  in  the  city. 

The  King,  aware  only  that  his  favorite  is  in  deep 
trouble,  endeavors  to  lighten  Naaman's  burden  by  royal 
favors,  but  without  avail.  At  length  a  meeting  with  his 
family  becomes  inevitable.  Naaman  reveals  his  trouble, 
but,  unable  to  remain  in  the  presence  of  those  he  loves 
so  dearly,  leaves  them  plunged  in  the  deepest  distress. 

In  this  extremity,  Rachel,  a  captive  Jewish  maiden, 
whom  the  warrior  has  presented  to  his  wife,  having,  some 
time  before,  discovered  her  master's  dread  secret,  makes 
known  her  earnest  wrish  that  he  would  go  to  the  Prophet 
in  Samaria,  confident  that  Elisha  can  heal  him  of  his 
leprosy. 

The  succeeding  events  reveal  the  deep  impression  made 
upon  the  household  by  Rachel's  unquestioning  faith. 

Naaman  visits  the  Prophet  and  in  due  time  returns, 
entirely  restored  to  health.  An  altar  is  erected  and 
dedicated  to  Jehovah  and  the  story  ends  as  Naaman  is 
receiving  the  ardent  congratulations  of  his  friends  upon 
his  wonderful  recovery. 

The  play  is  based  upon'  ihe  lecord  found  in  2nd  Kings, 
Chapter  V.  .  •;:  ,  , 


£2 
A  Captive  Maiden  in  Damascus 

A    DRAMA    IN    FIVE    ACTS 


CAST 

1TAAMAN,  Captain  of  the  army  of  Ben-Hadad,  King  of 
Syria. 

BARDA,  Wife  of  Naaman. 

RIMMONA   and   RIFKA,   Their  daughters;    15   and   10. 
RACHEL,  A  captive  maiden  of  Israel;   about  15. 
ELIEZER,  Naaman's  Steward;   a  young  man. 
CHANINA,   Steward  of  Ben-Hadad;    an   elderly  man. 
CHESIL,  The  Court  Jester;  a  young  man. 
ZAELI,  The  Court  Story-Teller;  a  man  of  middle-age. 
ABANA,  The  Court  Singer,  a  young  lady;  low  voice. 
KATANE,  TORRA,  ORMA  and  BERDE,  Court  Dancers; 
beautiful  young  children. 

Two  unnamed  Syrian  women. 

Two  or  three  unnamed  women  musicians. 

Place— The  House  of  Naaman  in  Damascus 

Time— About  900  B.  C. 

BEN-HADAD,  King  of  Syria,  in  Damascus. 
JEHORAM,  King  of  Israel,  in  Samaria. 
ELISHA,  Prophet  of  Israel,  in  Samaria. 
RIMMON,  The  D.eity  worshiped  in  Damascus. 

Costumes 

Same  as  those  used  at  present  among  the  higher  classes 
in  Persia  and  other  Eastern  countries.  The  girls  wear 
short  jackets  of  bright  colored  materials,  short,  flowing 
skirts  with  wide  girdles  and  loose  trousers  gathered  at 
the  ankles. 

312442 


A  Captive  Maiden  in  Damascus. 


ORCHESTRAL  PRELUDE 
ACT  1. 

(The  curtail)  rises  on  a  room  off  the  central  court  of  the 
house  of  Naaman.  A  low,  wide  dais  around  its  three  clos 
ed  sides;  luxuriously  furnished  with  rugs  and  cushions  in 
keeping  with  the  general  color  scheme.  No  furniture  except 
vases  for  flowers  and  a  tall  taboret  having  a  raised  mar 
gin,  the  latter  in  reality  a  house-altar  of  Rimmon,  the 
deity  worshipped  in  Damascus,  at  present  used  as  a 
flower  stand.  Rimmona  and  Rifka  busily  engaged  in 
arranging  floral  pieces  around  the  room,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  admire  their  work.) 

RIFKA— Oh  sister,  how  beautiful  the  flowers  are  to 
day! 

RIMMONA— They  are  indeed  lovely,  Rifka;  which  of 
them  dost  thou  admire  the  most? 

RIFKA— Oh,  the  pomegranates  always.  Thou  art  a 
'pomegranate'  by  name,— and  then,  it  is  father's  favorite 
flower. 

Oh   how  I  wish   he  were  at   home  again. 

RIMMONA— So  indeed  do  I.  But  if  I  were  a  man  I 
believe  I  would  be  a  soldier  like  father;  only  I  wouldn't 
want  to  go  to  war  and  fight.  What  wouldst  thou  choose 

to  be?  . 

RIFKA— I  am  not  sure;  but  I  don't  believe  I  would 
want  to  be  a  man.  I'd  rather  be  one  of  the  King's 
Dancers.  Think  what  a  perfectly  lovely  time  they  have. 
Almost  every  day  good  old  Ohanina  and  his  wrife  take 
them  to  the  "Place  of  the  Meeting  of  the  Waters,"  or  tht 
"Enchanted. Gardens,"  or  of  an  evening  to  the  "Citadel." 
And  I  do  just  love  to  dance! 

(Rifka,  humming  a  tune,  dances  a  pretty  step;  Rim 
mona  still  working  among  the  flowers,  pausing  now-  and 
then  to  watch  and  admire  her  sister;  smiling  all  the 
time.) 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS  5 

RIMMONA— I  believe  mother  is  becoming  more  anxious 
about  father  every  day.  Why  do  people  have  to  fight 
all  the  time?  I  can't  imagine  father  killing  anybody  01 
cutting  anybody  in  two  with  that  big  sword,  canst  thou? 

RIFKA— I  don't  believe  he  does.  I  think  he  has  the 
soldiers  do  it  for  him  while  he  looks  the  other  way. 
He's  too  tender  hearted  to  hurt  anything  himself. 

(Barda  enters,  smiling.  Girls  embrace  her  affectionately, 
while  she  goes  about,  admiring  the  decorations.) 

BARDA— Ah,  I  see  my  little  artists  have  been  at  work 
again.  What  beautiful  pomegranates,  Rifka.  They  are 
thy  father's  favorite  flower.  And  here  are  violets  and 
roses  and  myrtle  and  eglantine;  and  is  this  the  little 
one  thy  father  loves  to  call  "Stop  and  look"? 

RIMMONA— Yea,  and  I  call  Rifka  by  that  name  very 
often.  I  can't  help  it,  for  it  seems  to  suit  her  so  per 
fectly. 

It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  father  can  be  kept  away 
very  much  longer,  so  Rifka  and  I  have  agreed  to  arrange 
the  flowers  every  day,  just  as  though  we  really  expected 
him  any  minute. 

Wouldn't  it  be  lovely  if  he  were  to  come  in  and  surprise 
us!  Oh,  mother,  just  think! 

BARDA— (aside).  Four  long  months!  And  the  run 
ners  bring  only  vague  rumors  of  'success,'  whatever  thai 
may  mean.  My  heart  is  weary  of  these  continual  delays 
and  uncertainties. 

(Sound  of  trumpet  outside  and  cries,  as  of  excited 
people.) 

BARDA— Listen,  children!  Listen!  Oh,  I  wonder  if 
another  runner  has  arrived  with  news  from  the  army? 

(Heavy  footsteps  heard  outside.  All  start  up  quickly. 
Eliezer  enters  hurriedly;  bows  low  to  all.) 

BARDA— Oh,  here  is  Eliezer!    What  news,  what  news? 

ELIEZER— I  bring  the  best  of  good  tidings  to  the 
house  of  Naaman.  The  army  has  returned  victorious  and 
is  now  encamped  just  without  the  City  walls. 

BARDA— (Eagerly.)— And  is  my  husband  there  too, 
safe  and  sound? 

ELIEZER— (Evasively.)  Naamaii  has  returned  with 
the  army,  bringing  with  him  great  honor  and  glory  to 
the  King,  much  spoil  of  war  and  many  captives.  The 
war  is  over,  I  hope  for  ever. 

BARDA— And  when  may  we  have  our  Naaman  with  us 
again,  good  Eliezer? 


6  A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

EL1EZER— (With  hesitation.)  That  I  cannot  so  clear 
ly  answer,  good  lady.  He  bade  me  bring  you  all  his 
warmest  love,  but  to  say  that  he  will  be  detained  in 
camp  until  tomorrow,  or  perchance,  a  little  later. 

BARDA—  (Disappointed.)  Oh,  what  could  possibly  de 
tain  him  now?  It  is  not  like  him  to  allow  the  least  delay; 
and  we  are  so  eager  to  see  him  at  home  again. 

ELIEZER— (Reluctantly.)  I  can  only  answer  by  giving 
you  this  further  news.  Naaman  has  resigned  his  com 
mand  in  the  army  and,  with  the  King's  assistance,  is  now 
making  arrangements  for  the  promotion  of  Hazael  to  be 
Captain  of  the  Host  in  his  stead.  Ben-Hadad  is  extreme 
ly  loth  to  let  him  go,  but,  for  some  secret  reason,  Naaman 
insists  upon  being  relieved.  It  has  occasioned  wide 
spread  regret  in  the  camp,  but  my  master  keeps  his  own 
counsel  and  not  even  the  king  knows  what  his  motives 
are. 

BARDA— (Sadly.)  And  so  that  old  army  word  'tomor 
row,'  comes  back  again  to  sing  its  unwelcome  song  of  de 
lay  and  uncertainty  in  our  ears.  Well,— it  will  be  a  com 
fort  to  know  that  at  least,  he  goes  to  wrar  no  more. 

ELIEZER— Yea,  my  lady.  A  very  great  comfort,  unless— 

BARDA— (Startled.)  "Unless!"  Unless  what?  Art  thou 
concealing  something  from  us,  Eliezer?  Some  ill  news?  1 
beg  thee  not  to  trifle  with  us  at  a  time  like  this. 

ELIEZER— Madam,  while  life  remains  my  unswerving 
devotion  and  service  shall  be  to  my  master  and  his  family. 
I  know  that,  for  some  obscure  reason,  this  campaign  has 
greatly  burdened  the  noble  Captain  of  the  Host.  He  is  a 
soldier  but  he  is  far  more  a  man  and  there  have  been 
many  trying  times  for  us  all. 

BARDA — The  Gods  grant  they  may  be  really  over  now! 
Well,  give  him  our  dearest  love,  Eliezer;  but,  I  beg  of 
thee,  withhold  it  from  him  that  I  am  not  wholly  satis 
fied. 

RIFKA — And,  good  Eliezer,  give  him  this  flower  from 
his  little  girl,  wilt  thou?  I  was  going  to  ask  thee  to  take 
a  kiss  to  him  from  me  but,  I  guess  I  will  change  my  mind 
and  keep  it  safely  for  him  until  I  see  him  myself. 

ELIEZER — Ah,  even  absence  has  its  moments  of  re 
ward  and  one  of  them  will  be  when  he  takes  this  pretty 
flower  in  his  hand  and  learns  what  awaits  him  here  at 
home. 

(Eliezer  goes  out.  Barda  looks  after  him  questioningly. 
The  girls  come  to  her  side  and  embrace  her  ardently.) 


A   CAPTIVE    MAIDEN    IN    DAMASCUS  7 

BIMMONA— Oh,  aren't  we  happy,  mother!  Let  me  put  a 
llower  in  thy  hair!  I  wish  father  could  come  in  on  us 
now.  Isn't  it  splendid  that  he  has  returned  safely  and 
that  he  is  not  to  go  away  again? 

RIFKA— And  won't  he  be  pleased  to  find  us  all  so  well 
and  happy  and  so  hungry  to  see  him?  I  know  lots  of 
ways  to  make  him  happy,  mother.  Just  wait!  Father  and 
I  are  the  very  best  of  friends.  We  are  regular  chums,  even 
if  he  is  so  big  and  strong.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  eat  him 
right  now. 

BARDA— Yea,  my  dearies,  but,  (looking  at  the  girls  and 
petting  them.)  suppose  you  allow  me  to  be  alone  here  for 
a  little  while,  I  want  to  think  about  something.  I  don't 
know  why  it  is  but  my  heart  is  full  of  a  strange  forebod 
ing.  These  unusual  messages  and  this  delay  and  this 
odd  turn  of  affairs  in  the  army  all  come  so  unexpectedly 
upon  me  that  I  am  bewildered  and  know  not  what  to 
think. 

(Girls  embrace  and  kiss  her  and  then  retire.  Barda 
stands  fingering  the  flowers  on  the  taboret.) 

BARDA— (Alone  and  slowly.)  Oh  that  word  tomorrow, 
tomorrow,  tomorrow!  I  never  hear  it,  when  Naaman  is 
away  without  a  shiver.  What  does  it  portend  this  time? 
"Tomorrow"?— and  he  has  "resigned  from  the  army,"— I 
should  be  happy  and,  yes,  I  am,— but  I  am  not  satisfied. 

And  what  was  that  word  Eliezer  used?  "It  would  be  a 
comfort  that  Naaman  went  to  war  no  more,— unless,"— 
Unless  what?  O,  I  dread  that  word!  (Shivers.)  It  leaves 
a  dark  door  open  somewhere,  through  which  a  shadow 
may  so  easily  creep  in  upon  me.  Well,  I  must  bear  it  and 
wait  as  patiently  as  I  can. 

(With  uplifted  eves  and  clasped  hands.) 

O,  Rimmon!  Be  merciful! 

(Here  Barda  takes  the  blossom  from  her  hair  and  lays 
it  upon  the  altar;  lifts  the  vase  of  flowers  from  its  top; 
kneels:  lifts  up  her  eyes  and,  holding  the  vase  aloft,  mur 
murs  softly:) 

BARDA — O,  Rimmon,  All-powerful,  deal  gently  with 
thy  servant  Naaman,  for  he  has  ever  been  faithful  unto 
thee. 


Curtain 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 


ACT  2. 

(The  next  day.  The  same  room,  brilliantly  decorated 
with  fresh  flowers;  orientally  beautiful  with  gorgeous 
curtains,  cushions  and  rugs.  Barda,  Rimmona  and  Rifka 
arranging  bouquets,  as  before,  but  far  more  eagerly.) 

RIFKA— (Skipping  about  joyously.)  Father  is  coming 
today!  Father  is  coming  today! 

Father  will  surely  come  today,  will  he  not,  mother?  Is 
not  that  what  Eliezer  said? 

BARDA— Eliezer  only  said  "perhaps."  We  must  be  pa 
tient,  Rifka,  It  would  make  father  unhappy  if  he 
thought  we  could  not  wrait  even  one  day  longer,  while  he 
is  busy;  especially  when  we  know  he  is  safe  in  camp  and 
so  near  home. 

RIFKA- -And  won't  it  be  just  splendid  to  have  him 
here  with  us  all  the  time,  and  no  more  war.  Oh,  I  think 
that  is  the  best  of  all.  I  wish  he  could  see  the  rooms  just 
as  they  are  now.  Maybe  he  will.  Aren't  they  lovely,  Rim 
mona?  Just  look  at  this  rose  and  this  one,  and  this! 

(The  girls  go  about,  fussing  with  the  flowers  and  cush 
ions,  Barda  sitting  on  the  dais,  watching  them,  smiling. 
A  rap  at  the  door.  Eliezer  enters  and  bows.  All  rise  and 
eagerly  exchange  salutes,  as  if  in  haste  to  hear  him  speak.) 

ELTEZER— The  noble  Captain  of  the  Host  sends  greet 
ings  and  love  to  you  every  one,  but  with  this  most  re 
gretful  message.  It  will  be  impossible  for  him  to  come 
today,  as  he  has  not  yet  completed  the  Ceremonials  of 
Victory  in  the  temple  of  Rimmon,  with  the  King  and 
the  High  Priest.  He  wishes  me  further  to  say  that,  in  or 
der  that  he  may  appropriately  accept  certain  courtesies 
of  the  King,  he  has  granted  Ben-Hadad  the  use  of  this 
room  for  tomorrow  morning,  when  he  may  privately  re 
ceive  a  number  of  friends  wrhom  the  King  desires  to  send 
to  him.  It  is  a  function  which  cannot  be  evaded  or  post 
poned  and  after  it  is  over  he  will  meet  with  his  family. 

But  today,  in  order  that  his  love  may  not  seem  to  spend 
itself  in  mere  wrords,  he  has  taken  pleasure  in  sending,  in 
my  care,  a  most  charming  gift  to  his  wife  and  children. 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  9 

BARDA— What  gift  were  half  so  welcome  as  himself, 
Eliezer?  And  why  this  curious  arrangement  about  the 
room?  I  cannot  understand  it. 

ELIEZER— It  is  the  King's  arrangement,  madam,  in 
honor  of  Naaman's  victorious  return,  and  my  master  had 
no  alternative  but  to  accept  it.  May  I  now  have  the 
pleasure  of  presenting  his  gift  to  thee? 

BARDA— Thou  hast  brought  it  with   thee,   then? 

ELIEZER— I  wait  only  thy  gracious  permission  to  pre 
sent  it. 

(Barda  bows  in  consent.  Eliezer  goes  out  and  soon  re 
turns,  followed  by  two  Syrian  women,  leading  Rachel  be 
tween  them.  As  the  women  turn  to  go  Rachel  speaks  to 
them  in  a  low  tone.) 

RACHEL— The  God  of  Israel  reward  you  for  all  your 
kindness.  Never  has  an  hour  passed,  since  I  crossed  over 
Jordan,  that  I  have  not  blessed  God  for  human  love  and 
sympathy. 

ONE  OF  THE  WOMEN— Never  will  we  forget  thee,  little 
sister  of  the  hills.  And  we  wish  thee,  ever,  the  same  love 
thou  hast  shown  to  us.  Farewell. 

RACHEL— Farewell,  and  may  Jehovah  remember  you  in 
peace. 

(The  women  retire.  Rachel  looks  sadly  after  them;  then 
turns  'and  slowly  kneels  before  Barda,  her  face  to  the 
floor,  then  rises  and  stands  silent  before  her.  Barda  is 
Hitting  on  the  dais,  Rimmona  and  Rifka  close  on  cither 
side,  all  looking  most  intently  upon  Rachel.  Rachel, 
poorly  clad,  but  sweet  and  dignified,  stands  silent  a  lew 
moments,  then  slowly  lifts  and  holds  out  both  her  hands 
toward  Barda,  as  if  craving  sympathy  in  her  entire  sur 
render  of  herself.) 

ELIEZER— (Pointing  to  Rachel.)  What  better  gift  of 
love' than  a  life?  This  maiden  is  a  captive  from  the  far 
land  of  Israel,  tenderly  cared  for  by  the  women  of  our 
camp  from  the  first  day  until  now;  and  from  this  time 
onward  she  is  thine,  with  the  devoted  love  of  Naaman. 

BARD  A- (Anxiously.)  But,  truly,  Eliezer,  where  is  my 
lord?  Art  thou  concealing  something  from  me?  Surely 
I  am  not  to  consider  this  little  Jewish  maiden  a  substi 
tute  for  him  I  love? 

ELIEZER— (Stepping  away.)  Oh,  not  a  substitute,  my 
lady!  No  gift  could  ever  fill  the  place  of  such  a  giver.  But, 
I  beg  thee,  do  not  detain  me  now.  I  am  instructed  to  re 
turn  at  once  to  the  camp  of  my  master. 


10  A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

BARDA— 1  thought  the  message  was  that  he  would  be 
busy  m  the  temple  of  Rimmon.  But— let  it  pass  It  is  all 
one  if  Naaman  come  not.  There  is  something  out  of  joint. 
I  know  not  what. 

Do  not  let  me  detain  thee,  Eliezer,  (waves  him  away.) 
Hasten  to  thy  master,  whether  he  be  in  camp  or  temple. 

(Eliezer  goes  out  quickly.  The  two  girls  cling  close  to 
their  mother,  all  still  looking  most  intently  at  Rachel 
who  stands,  apparently  unmoved,  under  their  searching 
scrutiny.  At  length  Barda  holds  out  her  hand  toward 
Rachel.) 

BARDA-  Poor  little  captive!  Knowest  thou  what  I 
say?  Dost  thou  understand  the  speech  of  Damascus? 

RACHEL— (Bowing  low  and  speaking  softly.)  It  is 
not  my  native  tongue,  my  lady,  but  I  am  somewhat  fa 
miliar  with  the  Aramaic.  Some  of  my  people  used  to 
speak  it. 

BARDA— Thy   name,   poor   little   stranger? 

RACHEL— (Very  calmly.)  My  name  is  Rachel;  for  my 
mother. 

BARDA— And  thy  mother— living? 
RACHEL— Long  since  fallen  asleep,  my  lady. 
BARDA— And  thy  father,  child? 

RACHEL— I  know  not  of  him.  lady,  living  or  dead. 
Perhaps  it  were  better  he  lay  sleeping  beside  my  mother. 
He  is  dead  to  me  now,  and,  if  alive,  I  am  as  good  as  dead 
to  him.  I  alone  am  left  of  all  my  people. 

But  do  not  look  to  see  me  weep,  my  lady,  for  I  have  no 
more  tears  to  shed;  the  fountain  of  that  solace  has  turn 
ed  to  dust, 

BARDA-  (Kindly.)  Sadness  is  not  reserved  alone  for 
captives,  Rachel;  it  sometimes  lurks,  unseen,  in  the  bos 
oms  of  captors,  else  were  pity  and  sympathy  long  since 
dead  and  buried  together. 

RACHEL.  (Abashed,  and  in  a  begging  tone.)  Bid  me 
retire,  I  beg  thee,  sweet  lady,  I  am  not  fitly  clad  for 
these  surroundings.  As  for  the  rest,  I  have  nursed  my 
sorrow  and  now  it  sleeps  quietly  in  my  bosom,  and,  even 
waking,  thou  shalt  never  hear  it  fret. 

BARDA— (To  Rimmona.)  Here  daughter,  take  Rachel 
with  thee  and  deal  gently  with  her,  as  thy  father's  gift. 
Take  her  to  thy  room  and  change  her  apparel.  She  is 
of  about  thine  own  age,  I  think,  Deal  with  her  as  thou 


A    CAPTIVE   MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS  11 

wouldst  have  her  deal  with  thee  if  thou  wcrt  Rachel  and 
she  Rimmona. 

RACHEL— The  God  of  Israel  reward  thee  an  hundred 
fold,  my  mistress,  for  thou  hast  spoken  softly  to  a  very 
lonely  stranger,  and  thy  tender  voice  moves  me  deeply 
to  memories  of  my  mother. 

RIMMONA— (Cheerfully.)  Wilt  thou  come  with  me, 
Rachel? 

RACHEL- (Turning  to  go.)  I  seem  like  one  that 
dreams!  For,  though  I  am  a  captive,  I  have  been  treated 
with  this  same  most  tender  and  unexpected  kindness,  by 
all  the  women  of  the  camp  and  even  by  the  men  of  war. 
Yea,  I  will  go  with  thee  gladly. 

(Rimmona  and  Rachel  go  out,  hand  in  hand.) 

RIFKA— O  Mother,  what  a  darling  gift!  And  is  she 
OURS  now?  ALL  OURS? 

BARUA— Yea,  Rifka.  But  I  wonder  what  will  happen 
when  thy  father  hears  her  speak  of  the  God  of  Israel? 
I  must  caution  her,  and  thou  and  Rimmona  must  teach 
her  of  our  Gods  and  show  her  how  to  worship  in  the  an 
cient,  holy  places  about  the  city,  for  I  fear  she  has  never 
learned  religion. 

RIFKA— How  shall  I  treat  her,  mother?  It  will  be  all 
so  new  and  strange  to  me  I  know  I  shall  feel  awkward 
at  first. 

BARDA— Treat  her  with  kindness  only,  Rifka.  Re 
member  her  heart  is  sore  and  lonely.  Put  thyself  in  her 
place  and  all  will  be  well. 

RIFKA- If  I  do  that  we  shall  have  a  new  sister  at 
once,  for  I  love  her  already,  she  has  such  a  soft,  low, 
gentle  voice.  May  I  call  her  Rachel,  mother?  What  a 
sweet  name  it  is!  (Kneels  and  begs.)  And  may  her 
little  bed  lie  next  to  mine  at  night,  so  I  may  hold  her 
hand  when  it  is  dark  and  lonely,  and  I  get  frightened  at 
some  queer  noise  out  in  the  street? 

BARDA— (Smoothing  her  hair.)  What  dost  thou  kmm 
of  darkness  and  loneliness,  little  blossom?  Be  careful 
thou  dost  not  weary  her  with  thy  affectionate  ways. 
Think  of  her  as  thy  father's  gift  and,  by  her,  keep  him 
in  thy  heart  until  he  comes  again. 

RIFKA— And  may  we  take  her  to  the  Palace  and  the 
Enchanted  Gardens  and  the  Cascades  of  the  Abana,  and 
the  Citadel,  in  the  evening? 

BARDA— We  will  plan  for  many  things,  but  first  we 
must  have  thy  father  at  home  again.  Without  him  all 
else  will  pall  upon  us. 


12  A    CAPTIVE   MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS 

'They  rise.  Barda  turns,  as  if  to  go  out,  but  stops 
and  murmurs): 

BARDA — O  that  word  "tomorrow"  -  ''tomorrow"  - 
"tomorrow" ! 

(Instead  of  going  out  she  pauses  and  watches  Rimmona 
and  Rachel  as  they  enter.  Rachel  is  clad  as  a  young  Dam 
ascene,  smiling  and  radiantly  beautiful.  Rifka  jumps 
up  and  cries  out) : 

RIFKA— Oh,  how  beautiful  thou  art,  my  new  sister 
Rachel ! 

(The  three  smiling  girls  sit  together  on  the  dais,  Rachel 
in  the  center,  Barda  standing  near  and  looking  on  well 
pleased.) 

RIMMONA— The  very  first  change  of  raiment  I  tried 
fitted  her  perfectly,  mother.  And  dost  thou  know, 
Rifka,  she  and  I  are  just  about  of  one  age.  Isn't  that 
lovely?  (Barda  slips  out.) 

RIFKA— Mother  says  we  may  plan  to  show  thee  all  th» 
wonderful  things  in  Damascus.  Maybe  old  Chanina  ana 
his  wife  will  take  us  with  the  dancing  girls,  or  perhaps 
Eliezer,  if  father  can  spare  him.  Hast  thou  ever  been  in 
Damascus,  Rachel? 

RACHEI^-Only  in  dreams.  But  I  could  wish  all  my 
poor  people  were  in  captivity  if  this  is  what  it  means 
Yet  I  love  my  native  land,  poor  'and  stricken  though  it 
be.  There  are  many  little  green  places  and  gardens  in 
the  low  valleys  and  on  the  slopes  of  Hermon,  but  noth 
ing  like  Damascus. 

RIMMONA— Tell  us  of  thy  home,  Rachel,  or  wouldst 
thou  rather  wait  awhile? 

RACHEL— I  can  tell  it  all  now.  It  was  near  the  little 
city  of  Samaria,  far,  far  away  in  Israel.  The  city  is  built 
upon  a  hill  and  it  is  quite  beautiful,  in  its  little  way, 
but  thou  wouldst  think  it  very  small  indeed.  There  is 
one  street  in  it  set  apart  entirely  to  the  merchants  of 
Damascus,  and  I  have  been  among  the  bazaars  there 
But  it  is  all  as  nothing  to  this. 

RIMMONA— Then  thou  hast  seen  something  of  Damas 
cus? 

RACHEL— I  have  gone  about  a  little  with  the  women 
who  had  charge  of  me  and  with  Eliezer,  thy  father's 
steward.  Good  man;  he  tried  to  solace  me  with  showing 
me  curious  and  strange  things!  Men  have  odd  ways 
of  trying  to  comfort  strangers;  perhaps  he  thought  'it 
might  divert  me  from  homesickness. 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  13 

RIMMONA— There!  I  like  him  for  that!  It  was  kind 
of  him  to  want  to  be  a  comfort.  Eliezer  is  one  of  the 
kindest  men  I  know.  Father  is  very  fond  of  him.  I 
don't  think  he  keeps  anything  a  secret  from  him. 

RACHEL— (With  sudden  interest.)    What,  for  instance? 

RIMMONA-  Oh,  anything  personal  about  himself,  or 
the  camp,  or  the  Court.  They  are  inseparable  friends. 

RACHEL—  (Pondering.)  Will  Eliezer  attend  with  the 
King's  company  tomorrow,  I  wonder?  He  told  me  of 
their  coming  arid  I  would  ask  him  something. 

RIMMONA— I  know  not.  He  will  be  where  father  is, 
I  am  sure,  but  we  are  not  permitted  to  be  present  while 
the  King's  messengers  are  here.  It  is  a  Court  affair,  and 
very  grand.  Come,  let  us  arrange  the  room  for  their 
meeting. 

RIFKA— Shall  we  bring  in  father's  great  chair? 

RIMMONA— Oh  yea.  It  will  be  just  like  a  throne  for 
him.  Ben-Hadad  may  be  King  of  Syria,  but  father  is 
King  of  Love  here. 

(They  all  help  bring  in  a  great  arm  chair;  busy  them 
selves  rearranging  the  flowers  and  then,  all  being  in 
readiness,  they  gather  around  the  little  taboret  in  a 
graceful  tableau  of  admiration.) 

Curtain 


ACT  3. 

(The  next  morning.  The  room  as  we  left  it  in  last 
act.  Naaman,  a  magnificent  specimen  of  a  man  and  a 
warrior,  sitting  in  the  great  arm  chair,  in  full  dress  and 
armor,  his  cloak  thrown  over  his  shoulder  and  left  arm. 
A  sad  and  gloomy  cast  upon  his  fine  face.  Eliezer  enters.) 

ELIEZER— My  master,  Chanina,  the  King's  most  hon 
ored  Steward,  awaits  thy  pleasure. 

NAAMAN— (Stirring  himself  a  little.)     Bring  him  in. 

(Eliezer  and  Chanina  enter.  Both  bow  low.  Naaman 
rises  and  bows  also,  remaining  standing.) 

CHANINA— Ben-Hadad,  King  of  Syria,  would,  by  me, 
do  honor  to  Naaman,  the  retiring  Captain  of  the  Host, 
in  his  own  house,  which,  henceforth,  becomes  his  citadel; 
and  would  bestow  upon  him  this  special  mark  of  his 
royal  favor. 

(Chanina  steps  forward  to  hand  Naaman  a  brilliant 
necklace  of  gold  and  jewels.  Naaman  raises  his  inverted 
hand.) 


14  A    CAPTIVE   MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— Pardon.  One  moment!  Eliezer,  place  a 
cushion  before  Chanina,  upon  which  he  may  more  fitting 
ly  display  this  magnificent  token  of  the  generous  friend 
ship  of  my  King. 

(Eliezer  places  the  cushion.  Chanina  lays  the  glitter 
ing  token  upon  it,  then  speaks  slowly  and  with  great 
dignity.) 

CHANINA— With  this  token  Ben-Hadad  recognizes  and 
honors  the  invaluable  services  of  Naaman,  the  retiring 
Captain,  and,  at  the  same  time,  regrets  the  secret  burden 
which  oppresses  him,  into  the  nature  of  wrhich  he  does 
not  now  presume  to  inquire. 

And,  that  he  may  further  do  what  is  possible,  to  lift 
the  cloud,  the  shadow  of  which,  he  grieves  to  learn,  has 
fallen  upon  his  esteemed  servant,  he  has  sent  by  me 
some  of  his  most  gifted  and  most  delightful  courtiers, 
whose  bright  and  cheerful  ways  have  many  a  time  re 
lieved  the  weariness  of  his  thoughts. 

Receive  them,  he  begs,  with  his  many  good  washes  and 
may  they  be  as  a  kindly  and  effective  medicine,  to  the 
quick  recovery  of  thy  spirits. 

NAAMAN— My  lord,  tell  my  King  that  Naaman  grate 
fully  accepts  and  most  highly  values  these  tokens  of  his 
friendship  and  sympathy.  But,  Chanina,  as  between  man 
and  man,  may  not  this  suffice  for  the  day?  I  am  very 
weary. 

CHANINA— Offend  him  not,  I  beg  thee,  by  declining 
to  receive  his  messengers  of  good  cheer.  They  have  come 
with  me.  Thou  knowest  them  every  one.  They  are  all 
thy  friends. 

NAAMAN— Nay,  I  would  not  do  that.  The  gifts  and 
good  wishes  of  a  generous  king  are  not  lightly  to  be 
esteemed.  Farewell  Chanina.  Let  the  messengers  come  in. 
I  will  receive  them  as  I  am  able. 

(Chanina  bows  low  and,  escorted  by  Eliezer,  goes  put 
with  great  dignity.  Eliezer  returns  immediately,  gives 
the  necklace  to  Naaman  then  removes  the  cushion  and 
stands  before  his  master.)  , 

NAAMAN — (As  if  in  pain.)  How  shall  I  escape,  Eliezer? 
Must  I  bear  this? 

ELIEZER— Master,  my  heart  cries  "NO,"— but  my 
judgment  quarrels  with  the  word  and  thrusts  an  un 
willing  and  rebellious  "Yes"  across  my  lips;  for  Ben- 
Hadad  is  a  noble  and  kindly  King  and  much  depends 
upon  his  favor.  (Entreats.)  Let  the  messengers  come  in. 
It  will  all  pass.  They  will  come  in  and,  they  will  go  out 
again  and  there  will  be  an  end  of  them. 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS  15 

NAAMAN— (In  great  agitation.)  Yes.  And  then  what, 
Eliezer?  After  they  go— then  what? 

ELIEZER— Thy  family,  my  master.  As  thou  lovest  them 
I  entreat  thee  do  not  say  them  nay.  But,  see  to  it  that 
they  do  not  approach  too  near  thee,  nor  offer  to  touch 
thee. 

NAAMAN— How  can  I  restrain  them  without  wounding 
them?  And  as  for  myself,  I  can  command  an  army  more 
easily,  for  I  know  my  weakness.  (A  pause.)  Well  then. 
So  be  it,  Thou  dost  ever  persuade  me  to  what  I  would 
not.  Let  the  King's  people  enter. 

(Eliezer  retires.  Presently  comes  a  great  shout  of  laugh 
ter,  the  rattle  of  a  tambourine,  etc.,  and,  a  moment  later, 
Chesil  bounces  into  the  room,  in  clown's  clothes,  turning 
some  sort  of  handspring,  summersault  or  other  gym 
nastic  turn  and  laughing  uproariously.  Without  wait 
ing  a  moment,  or  noticing  Naaman  in  his  great  chair,  he 
begins—) 

CHESIL— Well,  well,  well!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  What's  this? 
Am  I  in  the  palace  of  the  King  or  the  chalice  of  the 
Ping,  or  am  I  drunk?  Where's  what,  anyway?  Call  the 
dog.  (Whistles.)  Come  here  sir! 

(There  being  no  response  whatever,  he  suddenly  glances 
up  at  Naarnan;  stares  curiously,  and  instantly  becomes 
silent.  Then  he  makes  a  low  bow,  as  if  in  mock  obeisance, 
but  in  reality,  because  he  wishes  to  conceal  the  fact  that 
he  is  on  the  verge  of  fright.  Naaman  leans  forward,  looks 
at  Chesil  earnestly  and  kindly,  then  speaks,  slowly  and 
sadly.) 


NAAMAN— Knowest  thou  what  trouble  is,  Chesil?  Hast 
thou  ever  stood  in  darkness  so  dense  it  might  be  felt 
around  thee?  When  an  ill-timed  word  stung  thee  like 
the  bite  of  an  adder?  Hast  thou  ever  known  the  mo 
ment  when  a  touch  of  easy  sympathy  burnt  like  a  live 
coal?  There's  not  an  atom  of  unkindness  or  rebuke  in 
my  heart  for  thee,  Chesil,  for  thine  is  a  useful  and  a  kind 
ly  calling,  to  amuse  and  divert  men  in  times  of  stress. 
Thou  canst  lighten  the  burden  of  grave  affairs  but,  tell 
me  this,  Chesil;  knowest  thou  an  art  with  which  to  light 
en  affairs  of  the  grave? 

Thou  art  a  man,  Chesil,  a  kindly,  human  man,  and  the 
bubblings  of  thy  innocent  mirth  have  often  revealed  to 
me  the  inward  gentleness  of  thy  nature,  but  now,  what 
thou  canst  feel  but  cannot  even  try  to  say,  will  help  me 
more  than  any  uttered  word,  for  I  stand  upon  the  spot 
where  human  help  and  human  hope  lie  dead  and  buried. 


16  A   CAPTtVPJ   MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS 

Say  nothing  of  this  to  any  one,  Chesil.  Think  kindly  of 
Naaman  as  thy  steadfast  friend.  Let  not  my  trouble  cast 
a  shadow  on  thy  sunny  pathway. 

Take  a  rose  with  thee  and,  as  thou  goest  homeward,  lay 
it  for  Naaman  upon  the  old  altar  of  Rimmon  which 
stands  by  the  palace  gate.  Farewell,  Chesil,  I  thank  thee 
for  what  thou  wouldst  have  done,  had  I  been  able  to 
bear  it,  Farewell. 

(Chesil  takes  a  rose,  covers  his  mouth  with  his  hand, 
looks  up  at  Naaman  a  moment  in  questioning  wonder, 
then  goes  out,  in  absolute  silence.  Presently  Eliezer  ap 
pears.) 

ELIEZER— Master,  good  Zaeli,  the  king's  most  gifted 
Story-Teller  would  pay  his  respects  to  thee. 

NAAMAN— (wearily).    Well,  let  him  come  in. 
(Eliezer  retires  and  brings  in  Zaeli,  then  goes  out.  Naa 
man  rises  and  speaks  cordially.) 

NAAMAN— Thou  art  "welcome,  as  an  old  friend,  Zaeli, 
and  1  am  glad  to  know  that  all  fares  well  with  thee  and 
thine. 

(Zaeli  stands  rather  uneasily,  as  if  uncertain  how  to  ad 
dress  Naaman,  then  clears  his  throat  and  speaks.) 

ZAELI— All  Damascus  is  singing  thy  praise,  most  noble 
Naaman,  yet  is  deeply  troubled  for  thy  welfare.  The 
King  bade  me  convey  to  thee  his  good  wishes  and,  if  op 
portunity  offered,  to  try  to  lift  thy  thoughts  from  trouble 
by  the  lure  of  some  far  off  scene  which,  like  a  veil,  might 
gently  steal  between  and  dull  the  too  vivid  glare  of  days 
near  at  hand. 

NAAMAN— So,  thou  wouldst  beguile  my  sick  spirit  with 
some  gentle  tale  of  love  or  of  mystery?  Zaeli,  I  know  thy 
noble  purpose.  It  hath  behind  it  the  full  measure  of  a 
good  man's  kindliness. 

I  will  listen,  but,  I  beg  thee,  take  it  not  amiss  if  I  can 
not  hear  thee  to  the  end.  Come  nearer,  while  thou  speak- 
est,  that  I  may  read  in  thy  countenance  the  movings  of  a 
sympathy  too  deep  for  words,  yet  just  as  powerless. 

(Zaeli,  surprised,  comes  nearer,  stands  silent  a  moment, 
then  speaks.) 

ZAELI—  Would  that  my  heart  for  thee  might  be  read 
as  easily  as  my  face.  Yet,  Naaman,  many  a  time  have  I 
made  trouble  drowsy  with  the  flickering  glitter  of  a  far 
off  vision. 

Some  ancient  records  have  lately  come  to  light  in  Bag 
dad  which  unfold  a  strange  story  of  love  and  of  the  des 
ert  and  of  the  Garden  of  Eden,  so  long  believed  to  have 
been  forever  lost  to  man. 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  17 

In  the  days  of  Chushan-Rlshathaim,  Kafka,  Prince  of 
Akerkuf,  a  suburb  of  Babylon,  with  his  lovely  daughter 
Karinian,  had  dallied  in  Damascus  just  long  enough  for 
the  maiden  and  young  Bidkar,  the  son  of  one  Baldo,  a 
noted  sorcerer,  to  become  affianced  lovers. 

Frightened  at  the  prospect  of  impending  complications, 
and  in  haste  to  be  away,  Kafka  listened  to  unwise  coun 
sels  and,  instead  of  following  the  safe  old  Bagdad  road, 
further  to  the  North,  started  homeward  across  the  track 
less  Syrian  Desert,  and  his  caravan  disappeared  into  the 
fierce  solitudes  lying  just  east  of  the  Sink  of  the  Abana,— 
even  more  desperate  then  than  now. 

For  awhile  all  went  well  but  suddenly  the  prince  found 
himself  in  want  of  water.  Karmian  now  told  her  father 
that  the  old  sorcerer  had  imparted  to  her  a  secret,— that 
one  of  the  Jinn  who  still  roam  that  desert,  had  of  late 
been  haunting  the  marshes  of  the  Abana,  until  now  his 
voice  had  acquired  the  sound  of  running  water  and  that, 
in  any  time  of  need,  if  she  could  but  hear  and  follow  that 
sound  she  would  find  her  way  to  a  well. 

Crazed  for  a  drink  Karmian  arose  that  very  night  and 
wandered  out,  alone,  into  the  silence.  The  spell  of  the 
desert  came  upon  her. 

She  could  hear  the  jackals  howling  afar.  Life  was 
sweet,  love  was  sweeter  and  she  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  death.  Thirst  had  made  her  hearing  sharp 
as  a  needle's  point  and  now,  listening  as  for  her  life,  she 
at  last  heard  the  sound  she  longed  for  and,  full  of  hope, 
she  quietly  slipped  away  from  the  encampment,  and  fol 
lowed  it  whither  it  lead. 

She  had  gone  but  an  hour's  walk  when  she  became 
aware  that  something  pale  and  silvery  was  moving  at  hei 
side  and,  turning,  she  saw,  to  her  infinite  delight,  tht, 
exquisite  form  of  a  Peri,  wrand  in  hand.  Almost  fainting, 
Karmian  told  her  plight. 

The  gentle  Peri  sustained  her  and  then  offered  to  con 
duct  her,  quickly,  whither  she  would  go;  giving  her,  at 
the  same  time,  a  carrier  dove,  under  whose  wing  the  Jin 
nee,  with  whom  she  had  been  in  company  on  the  marshes, 
had  secretly  fastened  his  private  mark. 

The  moment  Karmian  took  it  several  strange  things 
happened,  her  thirst  left  her,  and,  with  it,  all  remem 
brance  of  the  encampment,  and  all  sense  of  the  flight  of 
time.  How  far  they  wandered  she  never  knew. 

(Here  Naaman  lifted  his  hand  and  Zaeli  paused  in  his 
story.) 

N  A  AM  AN— But,  pardon,  Zaeli,  and  tell  me,  what  think- 
est  thou?  I  will  put  the  matter  plainly.  Answer  me  this: 


18  A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

Can  the  sweet,  rippling  song  of  a  lark  be  heard  'mid 
crashing  thunders?  Can  a  tale  of  love,  though  it  be 
sweet  as  the  warblings  of  a  nightingale,  dull  to  forgetful- 
ness  an  ear  in  which  is  roaring  the  savage  voice  of  sonio 
on-rushing  flood?  Has  the  delicate  fragrance  of  the  little 
white  rose  of  Hermon  strength  sufficient  to  beat  back  tlu> 
sickening  stench  of  the  dead  camel  on  the  desert? 

If  thou  knewest  all  thy  voice  would  reek  with  tears  and 
they  would  drown  thy  story  in  their  bitterness,  even 
though  our  feet  were  treading  the  very  threshold  of  the 
gates  of  Paradise. 

The  Gods  reward  thee,  Zaeli,  but,  my  thoughts  have 
mutinied,  and  I  cannot  listen  longer.  I  beg  thee  let  me 
say  farewell. 

(Zaeli  stands  a  moment,  then  bows  low,  covers  his  head 
and  retires  alone.  Naaman  looks  after  him  in  gloomy 
meditation,  seeing  nothing.  Eliezer  enters,  places  a  rug 
and  an  ottoman  on  the  floor  before  Naaman,  then  goes 
out.  Abana,  the  Court  Singer,  enters  softly,  unannounc 
ed,  carrying  a  guitar,  sits  down,  arranges  her  draperies 
and  awaits  a  signal  from  Naaman.  Presently  Naaman 
looks  about,  rises  and  salutes  Abana  with  courteous 
grace,  but  sits  down  without  giving  any  intimation  of  his 
wishes.  Then  turns  to  her  and  speaks  softly.) 

NAAMAN- -Thou  knowest  that  thou  art  ever  welcome, 
Abaria.  Many  a  time  hast  thou  eased  my  tired  spirit  with 
thy  songs,  and  1  would  hear  thee  now.  But  first  let  me 
speak  a  word. 

This  seems  to  me  a  strange  perversity  in  human  lire. 
When  I  am  happy  sad  songs  ever  seem  most  keenly  sweet, 
but  when  I  am  sad  sweet  songs  become  an  agony  unbear 
able.  I  know  not  if  this  arises  in  the  secret  nature  of 
music  or  the  perverted  nature  of  Naaman — but,  so  it  is. 
Sing  on,  Abana,  Try  a  sad  refrain,  if  thy  glad  heart 
knowest  any  such.  I  know  not  why  I  ask  it,  nor  how  it 
will  fall  with  me. 

It  may  strike  me  dumb,  without  a  word  to  voice  my 
helplessness,  but,  if  I  lift  my  hand,  as  thou  lovest  me, 
Abana,  pray  let  thy  song  die  there. 

(Abana  sings  a  plaintive  melody,  accompanying  her 
self  on  the  guitar.  No  sound  comes  from  Naaman  but 
just  as  the  song  is  ending  he  suddenly  raises  his  hand. 
The  song  dies  away.  Abana  rises,  looks  up  sadly  at  Naa 
man,  then  retires,  silently. 

Eliezer  comes  in,  removes  the  ottoman  and  the  rug,  then 
goes  out.  When  all  is  quiet  a  tinkling  sound  is  heard 
approaching,  bright  with  the  laughter  and  chatter  of 
children,  and  the  whispering  of  guitars  and  little  bells. 


A    CAPTIVE    MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS  19 

Two  or  three  musicians  enter  briskly  and  seat  them 
selves  without  ceremony  on  the  dais  furthest  from  Naa- 
man.  As  they  begin  to  play,  the  Royal  Dancers,  Katane, 
etc.,  clad  in  bright,  exquisite,  oriental  costumes  skip 
in  and  begin  their  graceful  evolutions. 

Naaman  watches  them  but,  apparently,  pays  little  at 
tention  to  their  lovely  movements.  They  begin  and  com 
plete  their  figures  and  then  all  pass  out,  smiling  and  hap 
py,  the  musicians  following  them.  After  all  have  gone 
Naaman  stirs  himself  and  looks  about  upon  the  empty 
room.) 

NAAMAN- -(Wearily.)  Thus  comes  and  goes  the  best 
that  earth  can  offer  to  a  troubled  soul!  What  could  I 
say?  Can  one  speak  blasphemy  to  flowers?  Can  grace 
and  beauty  compass  the  language  of  despair?  Would  one 
willingly  smear  an  evil  stain  upon  a  lovely  picture? 

How  beautiful  it  was!  How  exquisite  the  innocence  of 
childhood!  How  like  to  that  of  angels  this  native  grace, 
which,  surely,  would  beguile  me,  if  aught  on  earth  could 
do  it,  for  I  love  little  children.  Even  now  I  seem  to  feel 
the  bruise  which  came  in  falling  from  the  trifling  height 
to  which  their  beauty  lifted  me. 

And  now!  What  next?  How  dare  I  turn  to  wife  and 
children,  the  very  substance  and  fragrance  of  heaven'is 
best  balm?  What  if  they  should  offer  to  touch  me, — to 
embrace  me?  But — (calling)  Eliezer!  Eliezer! 

(Eliezer  comes  quickly  and  stands,  awaiting  Naaman's 
word.  Naaman  rises  and  speaks.) 

NAAMAN— Are  there  not  others  to  come  from  the  King, 
Eliezer? 

ELIEZER — No,  my  master;  they  are  gone. 

NAAMAN— All  of  them? 
ELIEZER— Yes,  Master,  every  one. 

NAAMAN— (Shuddering.)  Then,  bid  my  wife  and  my 
sweet  girls  come  in! 

(Eliezer  bows.  Slowly  retires.  From  the  further  side  of 
the  room  Barda,  Rimmona  and  Rifka,  clinging  together 
in  a  frightened  group  enter,  but  advance  only  a  few 
steps  when  they  stop,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  Naaman,  who 
stands  before  them  with  folded  arms  and  dowrncast  eyes, 
as  if  a  prisoner  of  fate.  Barda  speaks,  in  a  low,  frighten 
ed  tone.) 

BARDA— Is  this,  then,  the  victorious  home-coming  01 
my  beloved  Naaman?  Can  it  be  reality,  or  am  I  in  the 
grip  of  some  fierce  dream? 


20  A   CAPTIVE    MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS 

NAAM.AN— (With  groat  effort.)  Barda,  beloved,  I  am 
thy  Naaman, — yet — yet  must  I  tell  thec  something  fiercer 
than  any  dream. 

I  bear  upon  my  body  an  ugly  wound  which  must  be 
healed  ere  ever  again  I  may  touch  either  thec  or  these 
sweet  children. 

(Barda  starts  forward,  staring  in  incredulity.) 

BARDA — A  wound  upon  thy  body?    Oh,  Naaman! 
(Naaman  holds  out  his  inverted  hand,   to   prevent  a 
nearer  approach.) 

NAAMAN — Were  it  a  saber  cut,  dear  Barda,  I  could  per 
haps  show  it  to  thee  with  pride.  But  as  it  is.—  I  dare  not 
even  speak  its  cursed  name  in  thy  pure  presence.  Only 
this  I  crave,  believe  in  my  undying  love.  Leave  me  for 
awhile.  There  yet  remains  for  me  to  hang  a  jewel  upon 
the  Holy  Tree  and  to  visit  the  Tomb  of  Righteous  Abel. 
And  after  that,  if,  unless,  tomorrow,  perhaps,? 

.Nay  I  cannot  bear  it!  Let  me  away!  I  seem  to  suffocate 
within  the  house! 

(Naaman  throws  his  mantle  over  his  shoulders  and 
strides  out.) 

BARDA-  Is  it  madness?  Or,  (as  if  in  recollection.)  Oh 
Rimmon!  Has  that  small  white  spot,  which  long  ago 
appeared  upon  his  arm,  taken  root  and  struck  its  hide 
ous  fangs  into  his  very  reason?  (agonizingly.)  Oh  Rim 
mon  i  Rimmon!  has  it  come  to  this?  Canst  thou  not  help? 

And  if  there  is  no  help  in  thee  why  should  we  adorn 
this  house  with  flowers?  Come,  children,  take  them 
away!  1  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  them,  nor  will  we  ever 
enter  here  again  until  -unless.  Oh  there  it  is  again,  that 
hideous  word!  Come,  take  them  away!  Take  them  away! 

(The  bewildered  girls  begin  to  remove  the  flowers. 
Barda  watches  them  and  directs  them  in  great  agitation.) 

RIFKA—  (plaintively.)  May  I  not  leave  one  little  flower 
of  hope,  dear  mother?  Just  one?  Upon  the  altar? 
Please,  mother. 

(Barda  does  not  answer.  Covers  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  goes  out.  Girls  take  away  all  the  flowers.  Rimmona, 
her  hands  full  of  blossoms,  goes  out  silently,  as  one  in  a 
dream,  dazed. 

Rifka  takes  a  little  bloom  from  her  hair  and  puts  it  in 
a  vase  on  the  taboret.  Kisses  it  lovingly,  pets  it,  caresses 
it,  looks  longingly  at  it  with  clasped  hands.  Then  slowly 
goes  out,  looking  backward,  waves  her  hand  toward  the 
flower,  smiles,  throws  a  kiss  to  it  and  is  gone. 

A  moment  later  Barda  enters,  carrying  in  her  hands  a 
jewel  case.  Coming  before  the  altar  she  opens  the  box 
and  takes  from  it  a  string  of  lovely  pearls,  which  she 
holds  up  as  she  speaks.) 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  21 

.HARD A— O  Rimmon!  Once  more  I  come  a  suppliant. 
These  I  give  theo  in  sacrifice.  Accept  them  and  spare  my 
husband ! 

(Kneeling  she  takes  out  golden  trinkets,  pearls,  rings, 
and  necklaces,  laying  them  one  by  one  upon  the  taboret, 
saying  after  each  gift.) 

BARDA— O  Rimmon!  Spare  my  husband  and  I  will 
give  thee  all ! 

(Curtain  falls  upon  Barda,  kneeling  before  the  altar  of 
Rimmon,  which  she  has  covered  with  jewelry.) 

Curtain 


ACT  4. 

(The  next  morning  the  room  is  seen,  empty,  save  for 
Rifka's  little  flower  and  the  glittering  jewels  upon  the 
taboret.  Naarnan  enters  excitedlv;  disheveled:  calls  loud 
ly.) 

NAAMAN— Eliezer!  Eliezer!   (Eliezer  enters  quickly.) 
ELIEZER-Herc  I  am,  my  master. 

NAAMAN— It  is  well.  Sit  down  a  moment  until  I  reach 
a  quiet  spot  on  this  fierce  road  of  thought.  (Pause.  Elie 
zer  sits  down.) 

Early  this  morning  I  received  a  message  from  my  wife 
and  now  I  would  learn  something  from  thee.  Come  nearer! 

(Eliezer  rises  and  stands  before  Naaman.) 

NAAMAN— Knowest  thou  the  servants  in  this  house? 
ELIEZER— I  do,  my  master,  every  one. 

NAAMAN— What  became  of  that  little  captive  maid  of 
Samaria.  Didst  thou  do  with  her  as  I  directed? 

ELIEZER— Yea,  my  lord,  and  she  is  here  now,  beloved 
as  if  she  were  a  daughter  of  the  house. 

NAAMAN— What  is  her  name,  if  thou  dost  remember  it? 

ELIEZER— Yea,  I  remember  it  well,— but,— I  love  it 
better. 

NAAMAN— Let  that  pass.    What  is  it? 
ELIEZER— Her  name  is  Rachel. 

NAAMAN— Bring  her  to  me  and  then  leave  us  alone 
until  I  call  thee. 

(Eliezer  goes  out  and  presently  returns  with  Rachel, 
who  bows  low,  then  kneels  before  Naaman.  Eliezer  retires.) 

RACHEL— Peace  be  unto  thee,  my  master! 


22  A.   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

\AAMAN-And  peace  be  unto  thee  Rachel;  but  rise 
up  and  stand  before  me— T  would  ask  thee  something. 
(Rachel  rises.) 

Didst  them  see  those  people  when  they  went  away  yes 
terday? 

RACHEL—I,  did,  my  master,  every  one. 
NAAMAN-  What  said  they  as  they  were  leaving? 

RACHEL— They  all  went  sorrowing.  Some  said  "God 
forbid"  and  one,  an  old  man,  said  "Would  God  I  might 
lift  that  cloud." 

NAAMAN— What  meant  he  by  "that  cloud,"— if  thou 
knowest? 

RACHEL— Nay,  I  could  not  know  what  he  meant,  but  I 
know  that  a  cloud  may  hide  the  sun.  Trouble  is  a  cloud, 
—  sickness  sometimes,— (she  pauses  and  looks  intently  at 
Naaman)— but,  O,  Master,  hopelessness  is  the  blackest 
cloud  of  all.  Perhaps  that  was  his  meaning. 

(A  pause) 

NAAMAN— Hast  thou  ever  been  in  the  temple  of  Rim- 
mon,  Rachel? 

RACH.EL-— Once,  my  master,  to  look  on  and  admire. 
But  not  to  worship. 

NAAMAN— Hast  thou  ever  talked  with  my  wife  about 
that  visit? 

RACHEL— Yea,  master,  many  times. 

NAAMAN— Hast  thou  ever  spoken  of  the  God  of  Israel 
in  her  hearing? 

RACHEL— Surely,  O  master,  thou  dost  not  believe  I 
would  be  ashamed^to  own  the  God  of  my  fathers? 

(A  pause) 

NAAMAN— What  thinkest  thou,  of  thyself,  Rachel,  con 
cerning  me? 

RACHEL— (with  hesitation.)  Wilt  thou  be  angry,  good 
master,  if  I  speak  plainly? 

NAAMAN— No.  What  wouldst  thou  say?  Speak  plain 
ly. 

RACHEL— (slowly).  O,  master!  Thou  art  stricken  with 
a  malady  which  God  alone  can  heal. 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  23 

NAAMAN— Wouldst  thou  fly  this  room  if  I  should 
name  it? 

(Rachel  speaks  distinctly,  but  with  great  reluctance.) 

RACHEL— O,  my  master,  I  cannot  dissemble  before 
thee,— but,— 1  know  what  it  is! 

NAAMAN— Dost  thou  dare  name  it  to  me? 

RACHEL— If  need  be,  my  master,  but  it  might  scald 
my  tongue. 

NAAMAN— (leaning  forward  and  speaking  with  inten 
sity).  What  is  it? 

(A  pause,  then  Rachel  answers,  agonizingly.) 
RACHEL— O,  good  master,  must  T  speak  it? 

N  A  AM  AN—  (rising  and  commanding.)  Yea,  I  command 
thee. 

RACHEL— Master,  Master!— thou  art— thou  art  a 
LEPER. 

(Naaman,  shuddering,  drops  back  into  his  chair.) 
NAAMAN— How  didst  thou  learn  of  this,  Rachel? 

RACHEL— (calming  herself)  Once,  in  the  camp,  I  saw 
thee  look  strangely  at  thine  arm,  and  then  I  beguiled  the 
truth  from  Eliexer. 

NAAMAN— What  else  dost  thou  know? 

RACHEL—I  know  that  thou  hast  tried  every  human 
remedy  and  tested  every  spiritual  influence  which  claim 
ed  the  power  of  relief.  Thou  hast  been  devout  at  the  tem- 
pie  of  Rimmon,  thou  has  visited  the  Rivers  and  the  Tomb 
of  Righteous  Abel;  thou  hast  bestowed  rich  offerings 
and  hung  thy  mantle  upon  the  Sacred  Tree;  thou  hast 
prayed  in  the  Holy  Gardens  and  bathed  in  the  Enchant 
ed  Fountains;  yet  it  has  all  been  in  vain,  and,  O  master, 
had  I  dared,  I  would  have  told  thee  that  from  the  be 
ginning. 

NAAMAN— And  so  thou  despisest  these  ancient  and 
holy  things,  upon  which,  as  thou  knowest,  I  have  rested 
my  hope  of  recovery?  Is  this  loyalty? 

RACHEL— (protesting.)  Nay,  Nay,  good  master,  I  am 
loyal  to  thee  for  thou  knowest  that  true  loyalty  is  loy 
alty  to  truth.  And  why  should  I  despise  God's  innocent 
and  beautiful  world? 

(A  pause,  after  which  Naaman  speaks  even  more  ear 
nestly.) 


24  A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— Rachel,  I  have  called  thee  here  because  it 
has  been  brought  to  me  that,  last  night,  after  all  the 
household  were  asleep,  thou  didst  secretly  talk  with  my 
wife  regarding  me.  What  hast  thou  to  say? 

RACHEL— (after  a  moment's  hesitation.)  Listen,  good 
master,  and  i  will  gladly  tell  thee  of  it  all. 

[  was  lying  awake,  for  my  burden  for  thee  was  too 
heavy,  and  I  could  not  sleep.  Little  Rifka  was  sleeping 
quietly  beside  me,  holding  my  hand  and,  when  I  released 
it,  I  sat  up  to  consider  and  to  pray.  While  thus  engaged 
I  heard  the  sound  of  weeping  and  at  once  I  arose  and  fol 
lowed  until  I  reached  the  beside  of  my  mistress. 

She  saw  me  as  I  came  and  asked  anxiously  for  the  chil 
dren  and  what  I  would?  I  knelt  beside  her  and  said:  "O 
my  mistress,  my  heart  is  breaking  for  thee  and  I  cannot 
sleep!" 

She  replied:  "What  wouldst  thou  do,  a  poor,  little  cap 
tive?"  I  said:  "I  would  comfort  thee  if  only  I  might." 

She  said:  "If  thou  hast  ever  seen  a  man  rot  of  leprosy 
thou  wouldst  know  that  my  trouble  lies  beyond  either 
comfort  or  relief.  Even  Rimmon,  whom  I  worship,  gives 
only  evasive  promises  and  never  a  fulfillment." 

I  asked:  "Has  Rimmon  ever  been  known  to  recover  a 
man  from  his  leprosy?"  But  she  said:  "Urge  me  not  to 
sweep  away  my  only  hope  with  the  black  answer  I  must 
give  thee  to  that  question." 

I  murmured:  "Would  that  I  had  courage  to  tell  thee 
what  I  believe."  But  she  waved  me  away,  saying  it  was 
no  time  to  rebuild,  with  alien  thoughts,  the  crumbling 
temple  of  her  faith. 

"Nay"  I  said,  "I  would  not  attempt  that,  nor  need  I. 
Faith  is  of  the  substance  of  the  soul  and  never  dies.    It  is 
the  same  either  in  truth  or  falsehood.." 
"Well  then,"  she  asked,  "What  wouldst  thou?" 
I  answered:  "I  would  leave  the  temple  as  it  is,  but  I 
would  have  thee  enthrone  a  God  within  it,  and  let  thy 
sinking  faith  lay  hold  upon  Him." 

But  she  answered,  bitterly:  "What  then  must  thou 
think  of  Rimmon?"  I  answered:  "Of  Rimmon;  nothing! 
nothing!  nothing!  I  would  only  try  to  fill  an  empty 
heart  with  the  love  of  a  living  God,  for  which  it  cries 
aloud." 

But,  she  said:  "Of  what  avail  to  make  a  change?" 
I  begged  her  not  to  think  of  it  as  "change."    "It  is  but 
the  filling  of  an  empty  vessel.    The  throne  of  thy  heart  is 
vacant  and  it  hungers  for  a  sovereign.    O,  pardon,  mis- 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  25 

tress,  but  1  must  ask  it:  Hast  thou,  for  thyself,  as  yet 
had  one  atom  of  relief  or  hope  or  courage  or  sympathy 
from  Rimmon?  Or  has  thou,  with  all  thy  devotion  to 
him,  stayed  for  one  moment  that  hideous  white  finger 
which  is  scoring  earth's  fiercest  death  upon  thy  hus 
band's  arm?  No,  nor  can  it,  for  it  is  powerless,  more 
feeble  than  the  gentle  spirit  of  any  little  bruised  and 
fragrant  herb.  O,  believe  me,  mistress,  Rimmon  is  but  a 
blank,  an  empty  delusion,  a  nothing,  and,  if  no  other 
help  comes,  my  master's  fate  is  scaled." 

"Then,"  she  said,  "There  is  no  help !" 

"Listen,"  [  said,  "There  is  a  God;  a  God  of  loA7c  and  pow 
er  and  pity;  Jehovah  of  Israel." 

But  she  turned  from  me  saying:  "So  say  they  all.  Every 
one  to  his  own  little  divinity.  Who  can  know?  Life  is 
too  short— and  the  curse  is  swift  as  a  racing  camel."  Then 
she  turned  upon  me  bitterly:  "Did  thy  Jehovah  deliver 
thee  in  the  time  of  thy  anguish?" 

"Yea,"  I  gladly  answered,  "and,  O,  that  I  could  show 
thee,  as  I  do  daily  to  Him,  my  gratitude,  for  thou  art 
part  of  that  deliverance.  I  can  truly  say:  'He  has  crown 
ed  me  with  loving  kindness  and  tender  mercies.'  I  can 
not  reason  with  thy  sick  faith.  All  I  can  say  is,  I  know! 
I  know!  I  know!" 

But  she  shook  her  head  and  was  about  to  send  me 
away  when  my  courage  came  upon  me  again  and  I  cried 
out:  "Oh  that  my  master  were  with  the  prophet  which  is 
in  Samaria,  for  he  would  recover  him  from  his  leprosy!" 
Then  I  went  away,  sorrowful. 

But  now,  O  master,  let  me  bring  my  plea  to  thee — 

(Rachel  falls  on  her  knees  and  begs,  with  clasped 
hands.) 

Let  me  entreat  thee  to  break  through  every  barrier  of 
pride  and  go  to  him.  One  alone  can  heal  thee — the  God 
of  Israel,  whom  I  worship.  Thou  art  beyond  the  help 
of  man,  for  no  man,  nor  angel,  ever  yet  healed  a  white 
leper,  but  thou  art  not  beyond  the  power  and  the  pity 
of  Jehovah. 

NAAMAN— Thou  knewest  me  to  be  a  white  leper,  Ra 
chel,  and  yet  thou  earnest  in  hither?  Hast  thou  some 
talisman?. 

RACHEL— Nay,  master,  they  are  forbidden.  Thou  didst 
call  me  and  I  came.  I  knew  my  peril  well,  for  I  have  seen 
many  lepers,  but  it  is  written,  He  will  give  his  angels 
charge  to  keep  us.  So  I  put  my  fears  behind  me  and  now, 
in  thy  time  of  need,  with  God's  angel  by  my  side,  not  even 


26  A    CAPTIVE    MAIDEN    IN   DAMASCUS 

that  angry  white  curse  which  spreads  so  fiercely  upon 
thine  arm,  could  keep  me  from  thee. 

But,  O  master,  as  thou  lovest  little  Rifka  and  Rimmona 
and  thy  wife,  I  entreat  thee  delay  not,  O  delay  not,  to  go 
to  the  prophet,  which  is  in  Samaria. 

i A  pause.    Naaman  rises  with  resolution.) 

NAAMAN— Call  Eliezer,   secretly  and   quickly. 

*  Rachel  rises,  hurries  out  and  returns  with  Eliezer.) 

NAAMAN— (with  vigor.)  Eliezer,  go  thou  quickly  to  the 
king.  Reveal  to  him  plainly  the  nature  of  my  sickness. 
Secure  from  him  a  letter  to  Jehoram.  Prepare  a  boun 
teous  reward  and  a  body  guard.  Put  horses  to  my  char 
iot  that  I  may  fulfill  a  secret  mission  to  Samaria.  Keep 
the  whither  of  our  going  to  thyself.  Rachel  will  inform 
my  family.  Now  speed  thee. 

(Eliezer  bows  and  quickly  retires.)) 

NAAMAN— Within  this  hour,  Rachel,  I  go  to  Samaria. 
If  thy  God  heal  me  not  I  return  no  more.  The  eastern 
desert  is  wride  and  quiet  and  there  I  shall  meet  my  doom 
in  solitude. 


RACHEL— O  master,  doubt  not  Jehovah's  power  nor 
yet  his  kindness!  Thou  art  far  within  its  circle.  Go 
bravely.  Wait  not  for  faith.  Thy  very  going  is  of  faith. 
Do  whatsoever  the  rough  but  kindly  old  prophet  may 
bid  thee  and  thou  wilt  return. 


NAAMAN — And  if  T  do  come  again  what  may  I  bring 
thee,  Rachel? 

RACHEL— O,  good  master,  if  thou  carest  for  thy  hand 
maid,  bring  her  a  little  handful  of  earth  from  the  land 
of  her  fathers,  that  she  may  look  upon  it  and  hold  it  in 
her  hands.  But,  farewell.  Now  speed  thee  away  and 
God  be  with  thee.  I  will  make  all  plain  to  those  thou 
lovest  so  well.  Hasten,  master,  hasten! 

(Rachel  holds  out  both  hands  in  entreaty  that  he  go 
quickly.  Naaman  lifts  his  hand,  as  if  in  blessing,  and 
hurries  away,  leaving  Rachel  standing  with  clasped 
hand.;  and  uplifted  eyes,  as  if  in  prayer.  Then  a  smile 
passes  over  her  face,  in  the  fulness  of  hope,  and  her  lips 
move  in  converse  with  heaven.) 

Curtain 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS  27 


ACT  5. 

(Two  weeks  later.  The  same  room  unchanged.  No  flow 
ers  save  Rifka's  little  one  lying  withered,  among  the 
jewels,  upon  the  taboret.  Barda,  Rifka  and  Rimmona  en 
ter  hurriedly,  followed  by  Eliezer,  in  great  excitement  and 
speaking  rapidly.) 

BARDA  -What  news?  What  news,  Eliezer? 

ELIEZER— Rejoice  with  me,  O  house  of  Naaman!  My 
master  has  returned  from  Samaria  perfectly  healed  of  his 
sickness.  He  will  be  with  you  immediately. 

BARDA— (excitedly.)  Flowers,  girls,  flowers!.  Call 
Rachel,  that  we  may  all  rejoice  together.  And,  Eliezer, 
run,  bid  the  King's  company,  who  were  here  before,  to 
come  hither  again  and  make  merry  with  us. 

(Eliezer  retires  as  hastily  as  he  had  come.  Barda,  the 
girls  and  Rachel  bring  in  abundant  flowers,  place  them 
joyfully  and  then  retire.  Naaman,  having  first  met  his 
family  privately,  enters,  clad  in  citizen's  clothes  and  wear 
ing  the  king's  decoration,  his  wife  on  his  arm  and  the 
two  girls  hanging  upon  them  lovingly.  They  look  all 
about  the  room,  admiring  the  flowers,  then  sit  down 
upon  the  dais,  Barda  at  one  side,  Rimmona  on  the  other 
and  Rifka  on  a  rug  at  his  feet,  her  arms  on  his  knees. 

Rachel  enters,  smiling,  and  carrying  a  large  tray  of 
blooms  and  greens  ready  for  distribution.) 

NAAMAN— And,  surely,  this  must  be  our  little  maid, 
Rachel? 

RACHEL— It  is  I,  good  master,  and  I  am  happy  that 
thou  hast  returned,  and  hast  not  forgotten  me. 

NAAMAN — It  must  be  that  too  much  joy  Is  making  my 
very  vision  to  swim,  Rachel,  and  thee  with  it.  Surely 
thou  art  an  angel  of  God,  born  to  fly  in  Hie  very  firma 
ment  of  my  gladness.  Sit  dowrn  with  us,  my  daughter, 
and  listen  while  I  tell  my  story. 

(Rachel  sits  down  near  Rifka,  who  takes  and  holds  her 
hand  lovingly.) 

RIFKA — We  prayed  for  thce  every  day,  dear  father, 
Rachel  taught  us. 

NAAMAN— Ah,  I  felt  it,— and  I  needed  it.    Now  listen ! 

I  secured  a  letter  from  the  King  to  Jehoram  and,  mak 
ing  my  company  ready,  hurried  away  from  Damascus.  In 
due  time  we  crossed  the  Jordan  and  pursued  our  way 
over  the  hills  to  Samaria. 

There  I  presented  Ben-Hadad'-i  letter  to  Jehoram,  who, 
on  reading  it,  rent  his  clothes  in  anger  and  horror  ex- 


28  A   CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

claiming, —  "Am  I  God,  to  kill  and  to  make  alive,  that  this 
man  doth  send  to  me  to  recover  a  man  from  his  leprosy? 
Mark  how  he  is  seeking  a  quarrel  against  me." 

So  we  went  away,  chagrined.  But  this  was  not  the 
end,  for  then  I  recalled  the  word  Rachel  had  used — that 
she  wished  I  were  with  the  "prophet"  which  was  in  Sa 
maria—and  saw  that  a  mistake  was  possible. 

While  we  tarried  the  whole  city  was  stirred  up  over  the 
matter  and  we  learned  from  the  King  that  the  prophet 
had  sent  a  message  to  him  saying:  "Wherefore  hast  thou 
rent  thy  clothes.  Let  him  come  now  to  me  and  he  shall 
know  that  there  is  a  prophet  in  Israel." 

On  hearing  this  Eliezer  quickly  put  horses  to  my  char 
iot  and  we  drove  in  haste  to  the  house  of  the  man  of 
God.  Imagine  my  anger  and  disgust  when,  instead  of 
corning  our  as  I  thought  he  would,  standing  before  me 
and,  calling  upon  the  name  of  his  God,  striking  his  hand 
over  the  place  and  recovering  me  of  my  leprosy,  he  sim 
ply  sent  an  ill-looking  servant  to  the  door  who  said:  "Go, 
wash  in  Jordan  seven  times  and  thou  shalt  be  clean," 
and  then  shut  the  door  in  my  face. 

I  was  furious.  I  said  "If  I  were  unclean  Abana  and 
Pharpar  were  better  for  bathing  than  all  the  waters  of 
Israel,"  and  I  went  away  in  a  rage. 

But  by  and  by  Eliezer  quietly  came  near  and  persuaded 
me  with  this  argument:  If  the  prophet  had  bid  thee  do 
some  great  thing  wouldst  thou  not  have  done  it?  How 
much  rather,  then,  when  he  set  thec  so  easy  a  task?  So, 
reluctantly,  I  went  down  and  dipped  myself  seven  times 
in  Jordan  when,  lo.  according  to  the  word  of  the  prophet, 
suddenly  I  became  clean.  My  iiesh  came  again  upon  me, 
as  the  flesh  of  a  little  child,  as  it  is  this  day. 

Look  upon  it!  Look  upon  it!  (shows  his  arm.)  I  could 
have  wept  for  joy. 

So  we  hurried  back  to  Samaria,  driving  furiously.  As 
we  neared  the  city  the  prophet  appeared  at  his  door.  I 
gladly  acknowledged  the  God  of  Israel  to  be  the  only 
true  God  and  begged  the  prophet  to  accept  a  reward,  but 
he  refused.  Then  I  remembered  Rachel  and  her  request, 
and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  take  some  earth  from  Israel 
for  an  altar  to  Jehovah,  explaining  that  I  should  still,  of 
necessity,  be  an  attendant  upon  my  King  in  his  devotions 
in  the  temple  of  Rimmon,  but  that  for  myself,  I  should 
worship  only  Jehovah. 

The  old  man  simply  answered:  "Go  in  peace!" 

So  we  turned  homeward,  happy.  Later  we  sent  back  a 
present  to  some  youths  from  Mt.  Ephraim,  who  had  come 
to  visit  the  prophet,  and  then  with  all  speed  we  hurried 
awav.  and  here  we  are. 


A    CAPTIVE    MAIDEN    TN    DAMASCUS  29 

Truly  the  God  of  Israel  is  the  only  God  and  hence 
forth,  Rachel,  thy  God  shall  be  my  God. 

RIMMOXA— (eagerly.)  Ours  also,  dear  father,  for  we 
love  him  with  all  our  hearts.  Rachel  has  taught  us  that. 

N  A  AM  AN — Then,  indeed,  the  house  of  Naaman  shall 
be  the  temple  of  Jehovah  in  Damascus,  (to  Barda)  Was 
there  not  somewhere  here  an  old,  neglected  altar  of  Rim- 
mon? 

RIMMONA — Yea,  father,  we  have  been  using  it  to  hold 
our  flowers. 

NAAMAN — Let  Rachel  bring  it  here  before  me. 
( Rachel  brings  the  taboret  and  places  it  in  the  center  of 
the  room.) 

RIFKA— Why,  there's  my  little  flower  of  hope!  I  put 
it  there  the  very  day  father  went  away.  And,  see.  These 
are  mother's  jewels!  How  came  they  here? 

BARDA— I  laid  them  there  awhile  ago  in  the  bitterness 
of  my  soul,  an  offering  to  Rimmon. 

XAAMAN— What  wouldst  thou  do  with  them  now, 
Barda?  There  is  no  God  in  the  house  of  Naaman  save 
Jehovah. 

BARDA— (going  to  the  taboret).  Let  me  hang  them 
upon  the  neck  of  Rachel  and  our  two  daughters,  as  a 
thank  offering  to  the  God  of  Israel,  and  a  token  of  peni 
tence  for  my  unbelief. 

i Barda  takes  the  jewels  and  bestows  them  upon  the 
three  happy  girls.) 

KAAMAN— Give  me  that  little,  withered  flower,  Rifka.  I 
would  keep  it  among  my  jewels.  And  now,  Rachel,  re 
move  all  the  old  dust  of  sacrifice  which  remains  upon  the 
altar  top. 

(Rachel  and  the  girls  dust  off  the  top  of  the  taboret.) 

NAAMAN— Now  call  Elie/er  to  me.  (Rachel  calls.  Elie- 
zer  enters.; 

NAAMAN — Eliezer,  procure  a  silver  platter  and  bring  in 
upon  it  a  little  of  the  burthen  we  fetched  from  the  land 
of  Israel. 

'Eliezer  retires  and  soon  reappears  with  earth  in  a 
dish.) 


30  A    CAPTIVE   MAIDEN   IN   DAMASCUS 

NAAMAN— Give  it  to  Rachel  and  let  us  see  what  she 
will  do  with  it.  It  is  a  little  gift  I  brought  thee,  Rachel, 
from  beyond  Jordan. 

(Rachel  takes  the  dish  of  earth  from  Eliezer.  Looks  up 
at  Naaman,— then  fastens  her  eyes  upon  me  gift.  Kisses 
it.) 

RACHEL— (Softly.)  O  precious,  little  earth!  trodden  by 
the  feet  of  my  father,  and  of  my  mother.  Oh,  how  I  love 
thee!  Be  thou  here  the  blessing  of  Israel  to  us  all. 

(She  places  the  platter  upon  the  top  of  the  taboret, 
heaping  the  earth  into  a  little  mound.) 

RACHEL— Now  Eliezer,  bring  fire  and  let  us  lay  it 
upon  this  new  altar. 

(Eliezer  brings  fire,  a  bit  of  sponge  on  &  wire,  moist  with 
alcohol  and  lighted  outside  the  room;  Rachel  lays  it 
upon  the  top  of  the  mound  of  earth,  throws  some  in 
cense  upon  it  and,  together  she  and  Eliezer  blow  upon 
the  flame,  filling  the  room  with  smoke  and  perfume.) 

NAAMAN— (in  the  best  humor,  smiling  and  pointing  at 
the  pair.)  Dost  thou  observe,  Barda,  how  well  these  two 
build  an  altar  together?  And  how  fragrant  the  odor 
which  seems  to  flow  from  their  melted  breath? 

Is  it  not  a  happy  omen?  There  were  times  indeed,  in 
our  absence  when  I  had  grave  anxiety  for  Eliezer.  A 
curious  sickness  seemed  to  hang  upon  him,  usually 
toward  evening,  and  I  feared  that  he  would  desert  me 
and  return  hither,  running,  or  that  perhaps  I  should 
be  compelled  to  take  him  back  to  the  old  prophet.  But 
the  climate  of  Damascus  seems  to  have  refreshed  him  and 
he  has  entirely  recovered  from  his  indisposition. 

\h,  possibly  Rachel  has  beguiled  him  also  of  some 
dire  malady!  Well,  there  should  be  an  altar  to  the 
God  of  Love  in  every  home.  What  thinkest  thou  on  that 
point,  Eliezer? 

ELIEZER— Truly,  my  master!  But,  surely,  first  should 
come  the  home,  (he  grasps  Rachel's  hand,)  and  a  new 
and  happy  one  simply  waits  here  upon  tny  good  pleasure 
and  permission.  May  we  not  receive  it  and  have  thy 
blessing  on  this  joyous  day?  For  I  have  taken  Rachel 
captive,  or,  she  has  captured  me,  which  is  it  Rachel? 

(In  glad  surprise  all  gather  round  the  altar,  looking 
at  Naaman  in  expectation.) 

NAAMANf— Oh  that  we  knew  some  of  the  words  of 
blessing  Jehovah  has  spoken  of  them  that  love  him,  and 
love  each  other,  for  our  own  seem  far  too  slow  and 
bashful. 


A   CAPTIVE   MAIpEi<% tttf*       VMAeUS    »  '*     J        31 

RACHEL—  (Smiling.)  May  this  captive  maiden  prompt 
thee  a  little,  dear  master? 

N  A  AM  AN— Do  so,  Rachel,  thou  hast  taken  us  all  cap 
tive!  Speak,  and  we  will  repeat  the  sacred  words,  making 
them  our  own  for  thee  and  for  Eliezer. 

RACHEL— Come  then,  Eliezer,  stand  beside  me  while 
these  beloved  prisoners  repeat  upon  us  Israel's  ancient 
blessing. 

(Eliezer  comes  nearer  and  as  they  stand  together,  hand 
in  hand,  Rachel,  with  bowed  head,  softly  recites  the 
words  of  blessing,  which  the  others  repeat,  sentence  by 
sentence.) 

RACHEL— "The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee.  (All 
repeat) 

"The  Lord  make  his  face  shine  upon  thee  and  bo 
gracious  unto  thee,  (All  repeat.) 

'The  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee  and  give 
thee  peace."  (All  repeat.) 

NAAMAN— And  now  let  us  kneel,  in  thanksgiving, 
while  Rachel,  like  a  holy  priestess,  speaks  for  us  the 
praises  of  her  God  and  our  God. 

(All  Kneel  around  the  little  altar.) 

RACHEL— But— pardon,  dear  master,  may  not  thine 
own  daughters  be  thy  priestesses?  Listen  to  the  sweet 
words  I  have  taught  them  in  the  fulness  of  my  hope  and 
expectation  of  this  very  day. 

(Rimmona  and  Rifka  rise  and  stand  before  the  altar 
with  clasped  hands  and  uplifted  eyes  while  they  recite): 

RIMMONA— Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul;  and  all  that 
is  within  me  bless  his  holy  name. 

RIFKA — Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all 
his  benefits; 

RIMMONA— Who   forgiveth   all   thine  iniquities; 

RIFKA— Who  healeth  all  thy  diseases; 

RIMMONA — Who  redeemeth  thy  life  from  destruction; 

RTFKA— Who  crown eth  thee  with  lovingkindness  and 
tender  mercies; 


32  A    CAPTIVE    ,MAIi>r:X    IN   DAMASCUS 

BOTH  GIRLS— O  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for 
His  goodness  and  for  His  wonderful  works  to  the  chil 
dren  of  men ! 

(Then  all  rise,  while  Rifka  runs  over  to  her  father, 
with  a  small  bit  of  parchment  in  her  hand,  saying) 

RIFKA-  And   here's   a   little  one  I   have  learned   and 
written  out  for  thee,  dear  father.    Read  it  to  us. 
(Naaman  takes  the  paper  and  slowly  reads  aloud.) 

NAAMAN — "Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death  1  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art 
with  me,  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me." 

RIFKA— That's  for  today  and  tomorrow  and  all  the 
days  to  come. 

BARDA — Ah,  what  a  marvelous  change  has  passed 
upon  that  word  "tomorrow".  It  gleams  with  pleasure 
unending  now  where,  before,  it  was  ever  full  of  cloudiness 
and  shrinking. 

(Great  noise  and  laughter  outside.) 

NAAMAN— What  may  be  the  cause  of  all  this  commo 
tion? 

(Here,  -without  any  pretense  of  ceremony,  Chanina, 
Chesil,  Zaeli.  Abana,  the  two  Syrian  women  and  the  group 
of  Court  Dancers  with  their  musicians  enter  noisily,  all 
in  festival  costume. 

Great  commotion;  all  talking  at  once;  the  musicians 
playing  as  for  their  lives.  All  express  their  heartiest 
congratulations  and  good  wishes.  A  space  is  cleared  and 
the  dancers  perform  one  of  their  most  beautiful  figures. 

As  if  by  accident  the  whole  company  surround  the  altar, 
which  still  smokes  a  little.  No  reference  is  made  to  the 
ceremony  which  had  just  preceded.  Abana  comes  to  the 
center  and  sings  a  cheerful  song,  all  present  joining 
in  the  chorus,  forming  as  the  whole  group  stand  together 
a  closing  Tableau  of  Happiness. 


Curtain 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
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Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
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LD  21-100m-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 

mosny  cnnaren,  gave  a  most  intelligent  ana  sweet  interpretation 
of  the  author's  inspiration  and  the  costumes  and  scenic  effects 
were  perfect." 

E.  C.  Oakley,  Pastor  Cong-.  Church,  Mill  Valley:  "The  play  is 
something-  different  from  the  usual  run.  It  is*  artistic,  beautiful 
in  its  setting1  and  in  some  parts  very  impressive.  It  is  not  sad, 
but  moving.  There  is  a  fine  moral  quality  felt  throughout  the 
play,  but  that  is  not  obtrusive.  Its  salient  characteristics  are 
beauty,  art,  dignity  and  high  moral  tone." 

Published  by 

WHITAKER  &  RAY-WIGGIN  CO. 
San  Francisco 


Gaylord  Bros. 

Makers 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 
PAT.  JAN.  21,1908 


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